Page 24 of Road Trip With a Rogue (Her Majesty’s Rebels #3)

The pale gray light of early morning was filtering through the curtains when Daisy cracked open her lids, but it was the sensation of Vaughan’s lips nuzzling her neck, his hand trailing lightly over her breasts, that pulled her fully into wakefulness.

Her limbs were warm and heavy, her whole body filled with a delicious lassitude. She wanted to stay in the warm cocoon of his arms forever.

But a glance at the clock on the mantelpiece confirmed what she’d already suspected: they needed to get on their way.

Vaughan let out a disappointed groan as she pulled away from him and slipped out of the bed.

“Where are you going? Come back. I need you.”

His voice was like gravel, rough from sleep, and her stomach tightened with want at his words. If only they had more time.

“We can’t. We have to go. I have to stop that wedding.”

He rolled over onto his front and his biceps bulged as he pulled his pillow over his head. He mumbled something incomprehensible into the sheets.

“What was that?”

He removed the pillow and turned on his side to face her, and she tried not to think about how gorgeous he looked with his dark hair mussed from sleep and the shadow of stubble peppering his jaw. He looked divine, utterly debauched. She took a step back from temptation.

“I said, forget about bloody Victoria and Peter.”

“Violet and Peregrine,” she corrected with a smile.

“I’ll pay you five hundred pounds not to go after them.”

“I can’t do that,” she countered. “And it’s not just about the money. The reputation of King and Company is at stake, too. We’ve been hired to return Violet to London unwed, and that’s what I plan to do.”

“A thousand pounds,” he groaned, sounding desperate. “I’ll pay you a thousand pounds to get back into bed with me right now.”

Daisy bit back a smile, even as she put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “You’re making me sound like an extremely expensive courtesan.”

He rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. I’m not offering you money for sex. I’m offering you money so I don’t have to leave this surprisingly comfortable bed and go haring across the Scottish border at the arse-crack of dawn. Have pity, Hamilton.”

She shook her head, steeling herself against his pleading, and ignoring the twisted knot of desire in her belly.

Just one more time.

No. She couldn’t let Tess and Ellie down.

“Come on, get up. Or I’ll go without you.”

She turned from the far-too-tempting sight of his bare chest and hastened to her bag. Keeping her chemise on, she donned a clean shirt, breeches, and stockings, then tugged on her boots.

Vaughan was still sitting in bed when she glanced back at him and she bit back a growl of impatience. He had absolutely no sense of urgency. She grabbed the corner of the coverlet and shook it, and he let out a howl of annoyance as the cold air touched his naked skin.

“God, woman! All right. I’m coming.”

He threw back the sheets and stood, and her eyes widened at the sight of him. He was fully, unashamedly aroused, his cock standing proudly to attention, and he sent her a dark, sardonic look from under his brows.

“We’re wasting a perfectly good cock-stand, I’ll have you know.”

Daisy swallowed, clenching her fists against the urge to drop to her knees and take him into her mouth. Her pulse rate doubled, and she bit her lip.

Vaughan made an anguished noise. “Stop looking at me like that, or I’m going to stop being noble, bend you over that desk, and make you forget all about your bloody assignment.”

It was no empty threat. He could distract her with the least effort, and both of them knew it.

Daisy dragged her eyes from him and turned her back, shoving her dirty clothes into her bag. She fastened her belt around her waist but slid her single blade into her boot instead of the leather sheath at her back. It was more comfortable for riding in the carriage.

She let out a relieved sigh as she heard Vaughan stomp into the adjoining washroom and splash some water into the bowl.

“Where are my other two knives?” she called through the door.

“Still not ready to return them,” he growled back.

She sighed, regretting the change from lovers back to reluctant collaborators.

With a final glance at the rumpled bed, she hefted her bag and unlocked the door. “I’ll meet you down in the yard. There’s no time for breakfast. We can eat something when we get to Gretna. It’s only a few miles.”

Vaughan cursed fluently, and she fled.

Finch, thankfully, was already awake and in the yard, readying the horses. He declined Daisy’s offer of help, so she hopped from foot to foot to keep warm in the morning chill.

The sun was peeking over the horizon when Vaughan finally emerged, clean-shaven and annoyingly well turned out. Daisy was sure her hair looked like a bird’s nest under her hat, but she’d forgotten her comb so there was nothing to be done about it.

“Let’s go. Come on!” She was practically bouncing with impatience, but he was immune to being rushed.

He shook his head in clear exasperation, and glanced up at Finch. “The innkeeper says to watch out for brigands between here and Wetherby.”

Finch nodded, unperturbed, and clambered onto the box, and Daisy heaved a sigh of relief as they finally got underway. She had no idea what time the blacksmith-cum-parson at Gretna opened his doors, but it surely wouldn’t be any earlier than eight o’clock. They ought to arrive in plenty of time.

Vaughan seemed lost in thought, so she watched the gently undulating green and brown of the heathland beyond the window.

Compared to the lush fields and forests farther south, the moors seemed bleak and unwelcoming.

The only trees were low and stunted, hunched against the wind, and the ground cover was mainly wild grasses, gorse, and heather.

It was definitely colder up here, too, and she suppressed a shiver and the unhelpful thought that if she were a different kind of woman—one less driven and more open to bribery—she’d still be snuggled up, warm in bed with Vaughan right now.

Just the thought of what they’d done sent a flush of heat over her skin, as if she had a sickness, a physical yearning for his touch.

They started to slow, and she peered out the window, expecting to see another vehicle up ahead, or an obstacle, but the road was clear.

“What is it, Mr. Finch?” she called up.

The carriage came to a complete stop and rocked on its springs as Finch clambered down. She let down the step and climbed out to find him examining the leather straps that secured around the nearside horse’s belly.

“The girth strap’s snapped. Never seen that ’appen before.” He shrugged fatalistically, and Daisy almost screamed in frustration.

“Can it be fixed?”

He shook his head and glanced over his shoulder at Vaughan, who had finally deigned to lean out of the carriage.

“Don’t think it can,” Finch said. “And without it, the other straps won’t stay put, so the traces won’t sit straight. It’ll hurt the horse.”

Daisy raised her eyes to the sky. “I can’t believe how unlucky we’re being.”

“Maybe the universe wants those two idiots to be together? Have you considered that?”

Vaughan’s lazy drawl made her temper rise even more. She swung round to face him. “Don’t tell me that you, of all people, believe in fate and destiny and true love?”

His smile didn’t waver. He seemed to be enjoying her ire.

“Is that so incredible?”

“Frankly, yes.”

“Well, in truth I don’t believe in fate,” he admitted wryly.

“At least, I don’t think I survived the war because it was somehow preordained.

I think there were a million different choices and events that led to me dodging death.

Some of which were my own—the decision to duck left instead of right to avoid a saber, for example—but countless others were entirely beyond my control. It was just blind luck.”

“Right. So by that reasoning, Violet and Peregrine can still be stopped.” She glanced back along the road, hoping to see another vehicle, but the road was deserted in both directions. “Fine. I’ll just have to ride.”

“We don’t have a saddle, miss.” Finch said morosely.

“I can ride bareback, with just the reins. I used to do it all the time back at Hollyfield.”

Admittedly, that was years ago, and on her trusty mare Polly, but she would not be thwarted this close to the finish line, nor admit any weakness in front of Vaughan. “We can’t be more than a mile or two from the border.”

She started to unbuckle the rest of the horse’s straps, and heard Vaughan give a deep sigh behind her. She thought he muttered, “Un-fucking-believable,” but she couldn’t be sure.

“Will you ride with her?” Finch asked Vaughan.

“I suppose I must. Someone has to keep an eye on her. I’ll send a man back with two horses and a new strap when we reach Gretna.”

When both mounts had been unhitched, Daisy accepted a boost up onto the gray and watched with reluctant admiration as Vaughan swung himself up and onto the larger chestnut. He wheeled the animal around and sent her a bored glance.

“Ready?”

Daisy wasn’t ready at all. She’d forgotten how much harder it was to stay atop without stirrups or saddle. Still, she gripped the reins and pressed her heels to her mount’s sides to get him to move forward, and soon they left Finch and the stranded carriage behind.

After a mile or so she forgot her nerves as the familiar sensation of riding bareback returned, and she increased the pace, laughing as the wind tore at her hair. For a brief moment she felt like a girl again, wild and free, galloping around the estate, or heading into the village to call on Tess.

She glanced over at Vaughan, trotting easily beside her, and wished they’d had more time together. She hadn’t expected to enjoy his company quite so much.

And then the village of Gretna appeared in the distance, and she forgot about everything except the mission.

“There it is! That river marks the border between England and Scotland.”

She didn’t dare urge the horse into a canter, since she was sure she’d fall off, so she curbed her impatience as they ambled over the bridge and joined a steady stream of carts and pedestrians who all seemed to be heading toward the center of the bustling little village.

The first building they passed was the toll house—also a place where she’d heard marriages could be performed—and she checked the yard to be sure Violet’s carriage wasn’t there, then continued down the narrow street.

“What time is it?”

Vaughan took a gold pocket watch from inside his jacket. “A quarter past eight.”

The street widened as they passed a series of small shops and inns, mostly built of pinky-gray stone, and Daisy felt almost sick with nerves as she spied the smithy up ahead at the crossroads.

The building itself was tiny, a single-story white-painted affair with black window frames, and to her utter dismay she saw that smoke was already billowing from the chimney.

She slid from her mount just as the front door opened and a small group of people came out, including a girl in a pretty lavender dress. Her heart dropped as she recognized Violet Brand’s cheery blond curls.

“Noooo!” she groaned.

Violet’s hand rested possessively on the arm of the handsome, brown-haired man Daisy vaguely remembered as Peregrine Hughes, who was gazing down at his beloved with a besotted smile. Daisy glanced at Violet’s left hand, and groaned again at the flash of a gold band on her fourth finger.

Married. She was too late.

The three people flanking them were clearly the “anvil priest” who’d performed the ceremony, and two random witnesses, paid to attend to make things official.

“Bloody, bloody hell,” Daisy growled.

Vaughan came up behind her and took the reins from her hand, then tied the two horses to a nearby hitching post.

“Too late?” he asked mildly.

She resisted the urge to take a swing at him. He sounded as if he wanted to laugh.

And then the couple at the door glanced over at them, and Peregrine’s face broke into another smile. He lifted his hand and sent them a cheerful wave.

“Uncle Lucien!” Peregrine shouted. “You’re just in time to congratulate us! Violet’s just made me the happiest of men.”